Fealty
by Miniver
Summary: Aslan sends a visitor to the court of Cair Paravel. What role will this person play in Narnia's future?
1. Chapter 1

_Fealty_ 9/29/07 6

Fealty

I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies or anything else created by C.S. Lewis. Wish I did, but if wishes were horses, I'd still be a terrible rider.

Prologue: Out in the Elements

"Your Majesties, it's time," said a quiet female voice just outside the circle of lamplight. Four young monarchs, wrapped in cloaks, wool garments and warm soft boots, looked eagerly into the shadows. The faint clud-clud of hooves shifting in place on marble flooring sounded in the darkness not far away.

"Thank you, Lady Chavra," said Peter. He lifted the lamp so that it cast its glow down the hallway. Dim gold light briefly captured the shapes of a Cougar and a great horned Owl and then released them back into the darkness. While Narnia was safer than it had been a year ago, some of the Witch's followers still roamed. Whenever any of the kings or queens went outside at night, an honor guard of nocturnal Animals followed. Today, all four of the monarchs were afoot, headed outside toward the sea for a predawn astronomy lesson.

Lucy bounced in place a bit, holding tightly onto Peter's free hand. She was still young enough to delight in the absence of a curfew at dead of night. When Chavra, the court astronomer, had proposed a look at the early morning stars for the older children's astronomy studies, Lucy heard about the trip within moments from one or another of the Birds and insisted on accompanying the kings. She had persuaded the others that the sun rising over the sea would be a simply crucial event for her to witness. Lucy had also been the one to think of the basket of food and hot tea, which Susan now carried.

"Let us be gone, then, before we miss the last moments of full darkness," said Chavra.

The sounds of soft leather boots sweeping across the floor overlaid the near-silence of Imara the Cougar's sheathed paws. The group made its way to the main doorway, where lanterns burned all night. As Chavra reached the oaken door, the night guard, her nephew Titurel, saluted and then lifted the iron bar of the door. Cooler air rushed in as the door slid open. "Safe journey, everyone," said Titurel.

As Chavra led the group along the path, other night-seeing animals fell in behind the Cougar: a few small Cats, a Cacomistle, a Wolf. Most members of the little band heard the sea before catching its scent. Peter's lantern illuminated just enough of the path to show where they should step, and their own deep familiarity with the route did the rest. The moon had long set. Soon everyone stood on the sand, far enough back to avoid the water that lapped along the beach. High tide was several hours away.

"Straight ahead is the Swan, which would be below the horizon if we had looked for it last month," said Chavra. "Seven main stars indicate the body and the neck. The brightest star, Navarra, marks the base of the beak."

"Oh, there it is," said Susan. "It really does look like a swan."

"Yes, after three days of studying the star maps beforehand," said Edmund.

As the Centaur described the other constellations, it seemed to Peter that the stars, heretofore a scattering of glowing points in the night, resolved themselves into patterns. That was the way it always was with astronomy, it seemed. One had to but know what to look for, and the invisible became plain.

"Remember the position of the stars, Your Majesties," said Chavra. "You can steer by them on land or sea, if you only know where to look. Edmund, how does the Swan point to the Spear-Head?"

"Oh…by its wing, I think—oh, I see, because the beak faces east, you can figure north out from that and find the North Star."

"Very good," said Chavra. Peter found himself smiling at the scholarly pleasure in her voice. At times like this it seemed that all those Narnians, the Centaurs and Fauns, the Dryads steeped in the knowledge of plant species, had been lying in wait all these decades just to have Humans with whom to share their learning.

Susan made Peter train the lantern on the basket and handed out bread, cheese, and figs, and dried meat for the carnivores among the group. The sea air made the early breakfast all the more savory. As everyone finished off the last of the food, the stars became fainter. Pale light edged up over the horizon line. Sky and ocean took on tones of velvety gray. Surrounding Peter were a gray Centaur, a gray Cougar, some gray Cats and Owls, and three gray siblings. It was a moment of light without color, but that moment did not last long.

A faraway line of rosy gold and aqua flowed in from the utter East, from the threshold of Aslan's Country countless miles away. As it climbed through the sky ahead of the sun, gray tones shifted into blue and sea-aqua and the white caps of waves. A sharp flash of sunlight slid in along the waves. And there was light.

Now everything was suffused with color, from the radiant streaks of clouds to the sand-brown pelt of the Cougar, the Owls' black-barred plumage, the Centaur's silver hair, held back with celadon-green combs from her face, the deep emerald-toned cloaks worn by the two queens, Edmund's brown eyes. When the waves crested, their undersides glowed.

"They seem like living things," said Susan. And indeed they did: the waves curved and foamed and danced like ranks of horses, they lunged forward like lions pouncing on the sand. Sunlight made golden manes on the foam.

Peter leaned forward eagerly. Did some of the water look more solid, more golden?

Lucy was already running forward, paying no attention to what the dampness of the beach did to her boots. One moment a section of the wave might have been the great Lion, and the next moment it actually was he. Then everyone was following Lucy toward the shoreline, even the Cats. There, Aslan himself stood, shaking glittering beads of water from his mane.

Humans and Animals greeted him in the ways of their kind, the monarchs down on one knee, the Wolf dipping his head, the Centaur leaning back from one forehoof, the Owls spreading their wings in salute.

Aslan advanced toward the group. His mane seemed to collect the sunbeams. "My beloved Narnians," he said, and his voice felt like music across Peter's soul.

"Welcome, Aslan," said Peter.

"Are you studying the sea?" the Lion asked.

"No, the sky, Blessed One," said Chavra. "Their young Majesties need to understand the map of the stars. The land may change, but the constellations do not."

"Well done, Chavra," said Aslan, and it seemed that the dignified Centaur's skin grew pink with pleasure. Peter understood; no matter how high in honor one was, praise from Aslan made one feel like a favored child.

"My lord, I am no expert on the ways of the sea," said Chavra. "Which of us is, after so many years of being bound by ice to the land? But you bring up a good point. We need to know more. Whom should I get to enlighten us?"

"The Mer-folk themselves," said Aslan. "They wish you well, as you know from their presence at your coronation, children, and they are eager to be your full allies."

"We'll have to figure out a place where we both can meet comfortably," said Edmund. "Our next parliament is day after tomorrow." Peter and Susan exchanged small smiles. Both knew the matter would be dealt with thoroughly once Edmund was on the scent.

"I'll ask the Sea-Eagles to send representatives," said Oune the Horned Owl.

One of the smaller Cats said, "Great Lion, there is more that you need of us?" Cats of all sizes always sensed Aslan's wishes best.

Aslan's golden gaze swung toward Peter. "I am sending you someone," said the Lion.

"Sending us someone?" Peter tried to fathom where Aslan was leading him.

"A helper, but someone you will also need to help. Would you do this for me?"

"Of course, Aslan," said Peter. "Anything."

"I depend on your constancy," said Aslan. "Children, I must leave you now. But you know that I think of you always."

Lucy hugged Aslan's neck, causing a low purr to rumble from beneath the topaz fur. Peter allowed his hand to brush across Aslan's mane. The touch warmed him down to his bones. After similar contact with all present, Aslan said farewell, turned from them, and walked nimbly up the rocky strand until he was lost in a stand of trees.

"A helper?" said Susan. "I wonder what species he—or she—will be."

"And to help with what?" said Lucy.

Peter's mind already filled with possibilities, not all of them pleasant. He and his army had already dealt with incursions from the north and from within their own borders. Was something else lying in wait?

"Stop worrying, Peter," said Susan. "I know that look. Aslan himself has just stood with us. Do you think he'd leave us to some danger we couldn't surmount?"

"He certainly hasn't so far," said Peter. "Nevertheless…" He looked out at the advancing waves. "How soon can we find someone to teach us how to swim?"


	2. The Geography of Lost Lands

_Fealty_ 10/7/07 5

**Fealty**

I don't own Narnia or anything else created by C.S. Lewis. Which is great, because you'd all still be waiting for even the first book to be written.

**Chapter 2: The Element of Earth—The Geography of Lost Lands**

Susan climbed the staircase clutching a sheaf of papers. She was on her way to a geography lesson, but nothing in her hands had anything to do with terrain. Members of Parliament were arriving almost hourly, through doors, windows, and skylights. Susan was still arranging for accommodations and food for any number of different Bird species. She hoped that her plentiful notes would help her keep all the details sorted out. Everyone involved was very courteous, but Susan didn't want to cause inconvenience by allotting the same chamber, perch, or eave to several different birds.

Her three siblings were already in the library. Lucy was on the window seat, taking notes with a piece of charcoal, and the boys had clustered around Iakinthos, the Faun who had charge of what maps they had all been able to locate.

"Sorry to be late," Susan said.

"Not at all, Your Majesty," said the Faun. He was used to delayed appearances for his lessons; the monarchs as well as their subjects had a number of obligations, many of which cropped up unexpectedly.

Susan stacked her own papers on the long table, well away from the maps the others were examining. She looked around Peter's shoulder to see a lamentably sketchy rendition of Narnia. All detail ended at the kingdom's eastern seacoast; even the ocean was unnamed. Fresh in Susan's mind were the maps that hung on the walls of her old schools, with every inch filled in, and the British Empire's far-flung territories all in the same color. "Is it the Witch's fault that we seem to know so little about anything beyond our borders?" she asked. "Or were Narnians just uninterested in the outside world?"

"Very likely the Witch, Queen Susan," said Iakinthos. "Accounts have come down to us, through descendants of eyewitnesses, that she destroyed many documents. But I have been restoring a map I found behind the wallboards in the South Tower, hidden by one of my predecessors. Very nearly pulverized by age and weathering." He trotted into his tiny workroom, where he was heard rustling papers and murmuring to himself. Shortly, he brought out a scroll. "This is the copy I have made of it, the original being too fragile to handle."

"I'd better not touch it," said Lucy. "I'm all smudgy from charcoal." So Peter and Susan each took an end of the cylinder and unrolled it as Lucy and Edmund positioned themselves for a look. The parchment was fresh and crisp, the inks bright. Already Susan recognized Iakinthos's brushstroke style. East of the Narnian border, in the ocean, were several good-sized islands. Edmund read their names aloud: "Galma…Terebinthia… Erythia. Are these lands referred to in any of the histories? I don't recall reading about them anywhere."

"So we don't know whether they are friend or foe," said Peter.

"You're thinking about Aslan's comment," said Susan, laying the tip of her thumb on Narnia and the tip of her forefinger on Galma, as if measuring how far offshore Galma was. "Do we know the scale of distance for this map?"

"We don't know it, but we can figure it out," said Iakinthos. "Can any of you tell me how?"

Susan exchanged an amused glance with Peter at the sight of the schoolmaster emerging from within the archivist. "I suppose," said Peter, "we could measure between two Narnian locations that we know the exact real distance of and create a scale from that."

"Excellent," said the Faun. "At a glance, Galma looks to be more than fifty leagues off our coast."

"Good," said Lucy emphatically.

"Agreed," Peter said. "The farther away, the better, until we learn something about it."

Edmund eyed the islands. "The Narnians most likely to know anything about these lands are the Birds. I wonder how far offshore any of them fly. Do any Narnian Birds migrate?"

"Or perhaps there are some species of talking Fish," Lucy suggested.

"That is unknown," said Iakinthos. "But remember the Merfolk."

A small trilled murmur caused everyone to turn to the door as a cat slipped into the room. It was Mirabelle, a copper-eyed gray who had fought at Beruna. "Your pardon, Majesties, Iakinthos," she said. She leaped easily onto the table, her paws avoiding all the papers. She crouched tidily in place, curling her tail around her. Her perfectly groomed fur gleamed in the sunlight from the window.

"Good day, Mirabelle," Peter said. "What news do you have?"

"The Watch reports that a group of ten riders are approaching from the South. They are seven in number, armed for defense only, and they carry the standard of a Bear on a green background."

"Archenland," said Peter and Edmund almost simultaneously. This was the one country they could be reasonably sure approached on friendly terms. Peter continued, "How far away are they?"

"About a day, as Humans travel," said Mirabelle.

The daytime Narnian Watch consisted largely of Eagles, Hawks, and Falcons. Some of the raptors posted themselves on the towers of the castle while others roamed the skies. Whatever detail a Kestrel, Goshawk, or Golden Eagle described from half a league up could be depended on absolutely. The Kings and Queens of Narnia rolled up the maps, nodded their thanks to Iakinthos for their geography lesson, and went out to prepare for the arrival of ten lightly armed riders from Archenland.

"Maybe they'll be a source of information about the islands," said Susan as they went downstairs. Mirabelle, sinuous as an otter, sped ahead to alert the kitchen.

"I don't think it's such a good idea to ask," said Edmund. "At least not right away. We know that Archenland is probably friendly, but we shouldn't confide any of our weaknesses to them."

Peter smiled at his brother over one shoulder. "I like having a devious brother," he said.

"Oh, I wish you hadn't said that," said Susan, pausing on the landing.

"Well, I am devious," said Edmund. "And I'm cultivating it."

"No, not that. The part about how we ought not to trust Archenland. It's one thing trying to be—oh, goodness!—sovereigns of Narnia in front of Dwarfs and Cheetahs and such. Aslan Himself witnessed their oaths of allegiance to us. But to carry it off in front of other Humans… what if all they see is that we're children?"

"My dear Susan," said Peter, sounding at that moment nothing like a child. "They'll hardly notice our ages with all the Centaurs and Beasts of prey standing next to us. We'll just greet them in the company of our fiercest cousins."

"There is that," said Susan, her face relaxing. Her grip on her papers eased a bit.

"Maybe we'll find you a Serpent to wear round your neck," said Lucy with a giggle. "Then you'll be sure to impress."

They walked by a window, and they were briefly caught in a ray of late afternoon sunlight. Standing within that radiance, Susan watched a Centaur lope down the long green expanse between the castle and the granary. Several jewel-toned songbirds perched on a low bush; just a faint lilt of their conversation was audible through the window. Somehow, Susan reflected, all of these disparate creatures lived together to comprise this precious kingdom. How could four half-grown Humans possibly make any difference here? Yet it seemed very important to Aslan that they be here. It was all a mystery, Susan concluded. And with that she would have to be satisfied for now. What with half the Birds in Narnia as well as an embassy from the neighboring kingdom to welcome, she would have no chance for rumination any time soon.

A/N Before anyone asks, I looked up raptors, and they do have color vision. Scientists figured it out because they have more cones than rods in their retinas. In fact, as many other birds do, they have one more kind of cone than humans do, so they can likely see into the ultraviolet range. How cool is that?


	3. Chapter 3

**Fealty**

I don't own Narnia or anything else created by C.S. Lewis. Not even Archenland.

Chapter 3: The Element of Earth: The Shore of the Eastern Sea

Early the next morning, Susan and Lucy made their way toward the sea. Accompanied by two Wolves, Aryx and Falmor, they went down to the Meeting Cove, which was deep enough for a sea dweller to approach the land in comfort. For ease of movement, the sisters wore tunics of lightweight Dryad-woven silk over slim breeches. In a pouch slung from one shoulder, Susan carried a chain of delicate gold links, Dwarf-made. It was hard for land people and sea people to exchange gifts, because of the damage salt water could do to almost any substance. But Susan knew that gold was not affected by anything save what Chavra called aqua regia, a mixture of two different strong acids. And the Merfolk liked adornment.

The girls clambered down toward the water. Their soft leather boots kept them from slipping too much on the water-slick rock. A hollow cylinder-shaped gong of bronze, oxidized green from wind, water, and salt, extended down into the sea. When struck, its sound would travel through both air and water. Susan lifted the nearby rod from its holder and gave it a good swing. When the rod connected with the gong, the low-pitched sound resonated through the length of the bronze tube.

Only a short time passed before a Merman swam in, his sea-sleek body rippling like a bright ribbon just below the ocean's surface. As he reached shore, he lifted his head from the water, scattering droplets from his greenish-brown hair. His neck ring, carved from a single brown-flecked shell, curved loosely over his gills. By it he showed that he was a member of the royal family. He was known to Susan and Lucy, because he had attended the coronation.

"Hail, Narnians," he said. His voice had a human tone but an other-than-human resonance.

"Welcome, Prince Varuas," said Susan. She and Lucy curtseyed as gracefully as one could on moist, sloping land. The wolves acknowledged his presence with a quick bow of their heads, and a recitation of their their names and clan.

"Greetings from the court of the King Under-Waves," Varuas said.

Susan presented the chain to the young man. As he reached up for it, his hand spread somewhat, revealing his webbed fingers. Susan said, "This is from my brothers, my sister, and me. It was made by Bror, chief goldsmith of our Court."

The formalities of greeting complete, Susan continued, "We need your counsel. We have never learned how to swim, and we need to know who the best teachers would be for Humans."

Varuas submerged briefly. Susan wondered whether he was trying not to laugh in her presence. To him, learning how to swim must sound as absurd as learning how to sleep or to breathe would sound to Susan. But when he bobbed back up into the air, his face was gravely courteous. "Our court is at your service, Your Majesties," he said. "But though we look similar to you, we may not be alike enough for this task. Leaving aside the matter of the tail, our spines are much more flexible, and our hands"—here he raised a hand again and spread his fingers.

Susan said, "You're still the closest to us. Centaurs swim like horses. Dwarfs don't enjoy water, and their spines are stiffer even than ours. Fauns swim completely differently, and Dryads either keep to the land or drift like leaves on the surface. Besides, swimming comes naturally to you. To Centaurs and so forth, it's an alternate way to move."

Varuas smiled a bit. "We can teach you about the sea. If you understand the water, you understand how to move around in it. The rest, your body will figure out by its nature."

"You think that would work for Humans?" Lucy said.

"Of course," said Varuas. "Have you ever tasted your tears? You have the sea in your own body. Even your blood has salt in it. You're made to be at home in the ocean."

"Except for the lack of gills," murmured Aryx.

"Oh, that," said Varuas. "The largest sea beings of all, whales, have only lungs."

Susan felt a moment of elation. There were whales in Narnia's world? Lucy must have felt the same way, because she said, "Are they talking Whales?"

"They speak to us," was all Varuas said. "Lords and Ladies of Narnia, whenever you need to venture into the sea, my people will welcome you and give you what help we can. And if you should get into distress in our dominion, we will always come to your aid."

"Thank you, Varuas," said Susan. "We will let our brother the High King know of your kindness. Until we meet again."

She and the Wolves watched Varuas turn and dart away through the surf. He kept his arms at his side, scarcely using them, Susan noticed. Instead, the undulating movement of his spine and his torso was what propelled him forward. Some distance out, he leaped from the ocean in a fluid arc. For a few seconds he seemed to hang curved in midair, immune to gravity. Then, without so much as a splash, he slipped back into the water. Susan heard Lucy's soft marveling _ohhhh._

Susan and the Wolves shared a glance. Falmor said, "If that's how Merfolk swim…"

"Yes," sighed the elder Human Queen. "Not in a lifetime could we attain that. Still, it's good to know that whatever happens, they'll look out for us in the sea."

The four land-dwellers walked back to Cair Paravel, glad to be on firm ground. The aroma of seaweed receded, and the sandy soil gave way to rich loam under their feet. The group saw Mirabelle approaching at a purposeful lope.

"Is all well?" Aryx said, rushing forward.

"Yes," said the cat. "Your majesties, your brothers wish you to know that the Archenlanders are but two hours' journey from here. They should arrive soon after midday."

"Oh!" said Susan. She broke immediately into a run.

"Wait for me!" Lucy called after her. Aryx remained at Lucy's side, while Falmor sped up to stay alongside Susan. Mirabelle sprang ahead of them all and was soon lost in the foliage up ahead.

The Queens had become far stronger runners since their arrival in Narnia. Whether due to practice, the fact that they were gaining strength as they grew older, or something in the blessed air of this kingdom, the girls were now quite fleet. As Susan sped over the ground toward the walls of Cair Paravel, she reflected that the situation was not really urgent enough to be approached at top speed like this. Most of the preparations for the Archenlanders had been made, and besides, Peter and Edmund were there to do the welcoming if the visitors should arrive early. But she felt such elation as she ran that she decided not to slow down. She cast a look over her shoulder to see Lucy plowing along with happy determination, flanked by Aryx, and then she pressed on. She was breathless when she and Falmor reached the gates of Cair Paravel and stopped to wait for the other two.

Susan looked up and saw her older brother on a high terrace. He had already changed into his court robes, and the gold of his crown caught the sun. One of the smaller Falcons perched on his shoulder. He lifted a hand to wave to his sisters. Susan was struck by the thought that if she were entering the Narnian court as a stranger, she would know that she was coming into the presence of a true king. The realization steadied her. She lost all worry about how her family would appear to the Archenlanders. _We'll hold our own,_ she thought.

She reached a hand out for Lucy, who was just coming to a stop nearby, and together with the Wolves, they went into the castle. _Serpent around my neck or not, we'll hold our own._


	4. Chapter 4

**Fealty**

Disclaimer: Narnia—not mine!

Chapter 4: The Element of Earth: Four Thrones in a Green Land

An assortment of Narnians darted around Lucy's room like sparks from a campfire. Susan, already dressed, sorted through a vibrant heap of gowns on Lucy's bed while two Dryads and Mirabelle the cat hunted for hair ribbons, stockings, and slippers. Another Dryad was combing Susan's hair, which Susan normally did herself, when her hands were free for the task. She was in and out of her own slippers: left on, right off. Her bare foot wriggled into the right one as she held up a green gown to show Lucy, who was still in her chemise.

"Yes, that one's perfect," said Lucy.

"You said that about the last three," Susan pointed out. "Which is it to be?"

"Oh, you pick one."

Susan considered the array of dresses on the bed. "The blue, then."

Narnian gowns were easy to wear: they slipped on over the head and used artful lacing to fit them gracefully around the waist. Their beauty lay in the beadwork and the embroidery, and the color and drape of the silk. Generations ago, Narnian silk had been known through many lands. Susan was still not sure how the making of it had survived; the Mulberry Dryads had not yet divulged all their secrets. Some of the Dwarfs had hinted something about underground hot springs, but Susan had chosen not to pry. In time, perhaps the Forest Ladies would reveal to their Queens where they had concealed silkworm eggs and an orchard of mulberry trees during an icebound century.

Susan threaded a midnight-blue ribbon into each of Lucy's braids and tied a bow in each to secure the braid. She noticed how much lighter Lucy's hair had become, because she was in the sun so much.

The older Dryad took Lucy's court crown out of its coverings and arranged it on Lucy's hair. The diadem, with its network of leaves and blossoms worked in Dwarfish silver, seemed to have the living fluidity of real foliage. Almost instinctively, Lucy's posture straightened once the crown was on her head. It came to Susan that even if Lucy were to greet the visitors alone, she would be regal enough to do Narnia proud.

In a surprisingly short time, the two Queens had completed their preparations. They hastened out into the hall and down the stairs, accompanied by Mirabelle and the Dryads. Their brothers were waiting at the foot of the stairs, along with the two Wolves.

"Do we know where they are?" asked Lucy.

"Not far from here," said Peter. "There's time, though. We should all talk first."

The four monarchs walked through the doorway into the throne room. A Centaur stood guard at either side of the door, and Peter nodded to both with a smile.

"I wonder whether any of these Archenlanders is the helper Aslan promised," murmured Edmund.

"I thought of that, too," said Peter.

"But how would we even know?" said Susan. "Why is it always so hard to figure out what Aslan says?"

Peter smiled again, half to himself. "I think he doesn't want us to be his toys."

"Because then we wouldn't be acting for ourselves?" said Susan.

Mirabelle said, "He has gone to a great deal of effort to imbue us with acute minds and questioning spirits. What would be the point of those gifts if he desired merely to move us around like your chess pieces, Your Majesties?"

"Aslan certainly plays a deeper game than chess," said Edmund.

"I don't think it's meant to be a game," said Susan.

"More like a dance," said Lucy.

As the four monarchs approached their thrones, other Narnians entered the room, by foot and by wing. Many representatives from the Parliament—Owls, Eagles, Swans—joined the most trusted ministers from among the other citizens of the kingdom. The Dwarfs, Centaurs, and other clothed races made the room a splendor of jewel-bright ceremonial garments; the Beasts and Birds were no less lustrous clad only in their fur or plumage. The chamber resonated with low voices, half-whispered words rustling like the wind through summer leaves. As the Four took their seats, the whispers sank into silence. All looked expectantly at the Kings and Queens.

Peter leaned forward. Susan remembered that when he first became High King, he had been hesitant to address a crowd. He would sit so that no one but his sisters and brother could see that his fists were clenched to keep his voice steady. Now he had no unease. He spoke with assurance in his tone, but also with warmth, as though he were talking to each one of his fellow Narnians as an individual.

"In Aslan's name, I greet this Court," said Peter. A murmur of greeting in response, and then Peter continued. "A party from Archenland will soon arrive here to meet with us. They seem peaceful, their weapons merely defensive, but we will have no background to deal with them unless any of you can contribute information."

Folrad, a Red Dwarf whose family came from the South, said, "Your Majesties, several of my family escaped to the mountains of Archenland during the Long Winter. They kept to themselves, but they knew a bit of the outside world. According to family stories, the Humans there seemed both to value justice and to expect it."

A Trumpeter Swan spoke up. "My tribe also fled to Archenland during the Long Snow. My forbears changed our migratory path for many seasons. They kept to remote areas and pretended to be non-talking birds. They never saw armies move through Archenland. Perhaps that means something, perhaps not." Other Birds murmured in agreement; many of their ancestors had also gone into exile.

"Traditionally," said Fabricius, a Centaur accounted knowledgeable in statecraft, "Archenland has not manifested land-greed. Its population is not large, so it has enough fertile land for its needs. In fact, it has depended on support from Narnia in case of attack from other countries, such as Calormen. I doubt Archenland has the desire to alienate us."

"So you counsel that we express trust toward our visitors?" asked Edmund.

"Express trust, but remain watchful," said Fabricius. "After so long an interval, all is new once more, and nothing can be assumed."

"Thank you, Fabricius," said Peter. "We will keep that sound advice in mind as we talk with Archenland."

"Shall we remain here when they arrive, High King?" asked Fabricius.

"Of course," said Peter. "I think for this meeting, Narnia needs all the eyes and ears it can get."


	5. Chapter 5

**Fealty Chapter 5**

I don't own Narnia or anything else created by C.S. Lewis.

**The Element of Earth: The Road to the North**

The group of riders from Archenland traveled by the guidance of a hundred-year-old map. It was carried by their second in command, Lord Alaric, whose great-grandmother had escaped from Narnia during the years of the Witch's rule. The map itself was Narnian, dating from a time when the two kingdoms were close allies.

The leader of the expedition, Prince Berol, was a cousin of King Lune, and like Lune himself, a grandson of King Terath III. The fact that someone of such high rank rode with the diplomatic party showed how important the alliance with Narnia was to the Court of Archenland.

Alaric looked up at the sun to verify both the time of day and their direction. "If the map is right, we should be there in an hour."

"Less than that," said Gavrel, chief of the guardsmen riding with the party. He was farther along on the path and had reached the top of a rise. He reined in his horse. "The castle is within sight."

The others spurred their mounts and soon crested the hill. Not a mile away stood a many-towered castle of sand-colored stone. As the guardsmen checked their swords and tightened the buckles on their armor, Alaric felt something eager rise in his chest. He had lived all his life in Archenland, and he loved it as any man loves his country, but Narnia had been the land of his mother's and grandmother's stories, passed down in faithful detail through the generations. The Narnia of his ancestors had always seemed an impossible kingdom to him, once inhabited by creatures of legend, but now vanished forever under unyielding ice. Then last year news had come of the breaking of the spell, and the rushing snowmelt waterfalls from the mountains bordering Narnia had confirmed the rumors. Now the fabled castle of Cair Paravel sat as real and solid in the sun as any tree or boulder. Alaric hoped that somewhere in Aslan's Country, Great-Grandmother Runa knew that her descendant had her old home in his sights.

"Amazing how well it survived the long winter," observed Berol.

Nethani, a merchant traveling with the group, said, "They've done some repairing since they booted the Witch out, I shouldn't wonder."

"Maybe the Witch kept it in good repair." Gavrel said.

"She lived elsewhere, I think," said Alaric. "In a palace of ice." He folded the map and put it in the pouch he carried on a shoulder strap. It was to be a gift to the sovereigns of Narnia, because it was of Narnian make. Certainly the Archenlandish party would have no need of it on the way back.

"Do you think all that we hear about this place is true?" said Berol.

"How could it be?" said Nethani. "Talking animals, monsters out of bad dreams, children running the kingdom. Sounds like nursery hokum."

"Careful, Nethani," said Gavrel, in a voice laced with mockery. "Say the wrong thing in these parts and the child king will turn you to stone with his wand."

"It was the witch who turned people into stone," said Alaric, keeping his impatience out of his voice.

"Who can keep the stories clear?" said Gavrel.

Something crackled in the underbrush nearby. "What was that?" said Berol, half turning in his saddle to look. His horse stumbled a bit, perhaps unnerved by the change in her rider's balance.

Gavrel gave a short, sharp laugh. "A courtier, I imagine."

"You mean, one of the talking animals," said Nethani. In a much lower voice, he said, "Wonder which kind."

"Otter, fox, squirrel, take your pick," said Alaric. "It could be any of them."

"I suppose they're all loyal to their King," said Nethani.

"Kings," corrected Berol. "Kings and Queens; two of each, our border dwellers say. I'm sure all Talking Beasts have sworn fealty to their monarchs, and to the Great Lion."

"Yes, but animals," said Gavrel with an uneasy laugh. "Usually it's people who pledge to their monarchs."

The small group rode on in silence for a while, and then Alaric said, "I think that in Narnia, these creatures _are_ the people."

oooooooooooo

The Archenlanders made their way over the sunlit road to the castle. They formed an impressive procession for a small group: the guardsmen's green livery contrasted with the merchant's scarlet attire, Berol's circlet of gold gleamed in the sun, and even the three pack horses were glossy from good care. Alaric, watching Prince Berol spur his horse to a canter, felt that Archenland would do well on this first embassy to Narnia in a century.

The castle's ochre walls and turrets seemed to have captured some of the sunlight. The riders knew that they had probably been watched since crossing the border, so their arrival would not come as a surprise to the Narnian Court. Thus, as they reached Cair Paravel, they were not shocked to see a group standing by the front gates.

"They don't seem to be armed," said Gavrel, though his hand moved uneasily over the hilt of his short sword.

From a distance, it looked as though some of the Narnians were extraordinarily tall men and women on horseback, but a closer view showed that there were no horses. Instead, these were people with horses' bodies; centaurs, just like the pictures from the old books. The sight of them struck several of the Archenlanders with fear, and their mounts danced in place in response to the tightened grip on the reins. Alaric, though, leaned a little forward with anticipation. Centaurs! What other folk of marvel would he encounter today?

"Mercy," said Nethani under his breath. But Berol kept his mare going steadily. Alaric matched his horse's pace to the Prince's. The other men gamely followed, and the green banner of the Bear was hoisted high. As the riders drew nearer to the castle, they saw that behind the centaurs stood a number of animals, normally natural enemies, but here clearly unafraid of one another: foxes, a huge brown bear standing upright, some dun-colored wildcats that called to mind the mountain lions one hoped not to meet on the high passes in Archenland.

"Steady, men," said Berol. They were within a stone's throw of the gates now. "Garan," he said to one of the guards, "stay behind here with the pack horses. It won't be easy to hold them if they bolt." Berol spurred his own horse forward, using his knees and reins to keep his mount calm. It would not look good if King Lune's chief envoy—and blood relative—had to pick himself up off the ground and continue forward on foot. Alaric felt his own horse tremble slightly, but he knew that Thunder had seen battle and was not easily frightened into retreat.

The Archenlanders heard no order given, but they saw all the Narnian animals turn and go in through the gates. The beasts seemed to have decided that their presence was frightening the horses. In less than a minute, the only Narnians remaining were the Centaurs and a pair of women in floaty gowns. The women's feet were bare, and their crowns were of flowers. On closer look, they seemed less substantial than mortal women. Their skin was almost translucent. They must be Dryads, Alaric realized.

One of the women stepped forward and curtseyed. "Be welcome to Narnia, lords of Archenland, in the name of the Great Lion and High King Peter."

Berol inclined his head. He looked down at the Dryad, but even seated in the saddle, he had to look up at the centaurs. "I, Berol, Prince of Archenland, bring the greetings of my cousin, King Lune. We wish to convey his good wishes to the monarchs of Narnia."

"The Kings and Queens are waiting to greet you," said one of the centaurs. His voice seemed far more resonant than the voice of a man. Nethani stole a look at Alaric. Of course they're waiting for us, the look seemed to say; they've been keeping an eye on us since we crossed the border.

The centaur continued, "Do you wish to bring your other horses in? They face no danger. Our allies the Talking Beasts are fierce only in battle."

Berol hesitated for only an instant. It barely showed on his face. Then, with a determined smile, he raised a hand to signal his distant guard that all was well.

Alaric found that he could barely restrain himself from pushing his horse ahead of the Prince's through the gate. He managed to hold back, though, and waited until Berol rode in, chin in a dignified position. Not a coward, Berol. For Alaric's part, he had the fleeting feeling that he didn't care if the Narnians had planned an ambush. If he died within the hour, he would at least be on Narnian soil when he did. The longing that swept through him was as strong as a river's current. He looked in all directions to catch every detail of the courtyard of Cair Paravel. It seemed awash in color and movement, and Alaric realized that most of that motion was from birds large and small. They were perched on every wall and sill and post. He knew without any demonstration that they were all Talking Birds. Hand to heart, he bowed from the waist to several groups of them as his horse passed by.

The foxes, wild cats, and other carnivores were nowhere to be seen as the travelers dismounted from their horses. After the men retrieved belongings of immediate importance, the Dryads led the mounts to the stables, addressing them in soft voices to calm them.

The castle's front entranceway was hugely high, causing Alaric to speculate on the beings who were wont to pass through that doorway. Once inside, he saw that the walls of the broad hall were adorned with paintings of all manner of animals, and of dwarfs, fauns, and centaurs. From some distance away, he heard music whose melody reminded him of a song his grandmother had sung to soothe him to sleep as a child. But this was no lullaby. Instead, it seemed to be a fanfare, played by horns with a deeper tone than any he had ever heard in Archenland.

The Archenlanders soon found themselves in the throne room. Now there was no wall between them and the music. It seemed to Alaric that the dark, sweet sound rushed over him and even inside of him. He saw that the musicians were the Centaurs, blowing long, curved bronze horns so massive that they rested on the ground. No other creatures, save perhaps giants, could have made music on such horns. They were the legendary lurs, centuries upon centuries old.

When the Centaurs saw the visitors, the lurs fell silent. The sudden quiet was almost as tangible against Alaric's ears as the music had been. His eyes traveled across the room, which was as full of figures as a tapestry. At the opposite end of the chamber were four thrones, each carved in a different style, and the Kings and Queens of Narnia sat on the thrones. Save for the Archenlanders, these four were the only humans in the vast room.

The Archenlanders approached the thrones, moving past the dwarfs, past the Bears and Foxes and Leopards, under the fierce and protective glare of the Owls, Eagles and Falcons. Alaric looked at the faces of Narnia's rulers. Though they were merely a quartet of human children, they seemed more marvelous than any of the legendary beings surrounding them. Some inner radiance gave them an air of wisdom and ardent strength.

At that moment, Alaric was filled with a yearning to become the kind of man who deserved to live in Narnia, and who would be worthy of one day entering the land where Aslan's Father held His glorious court. Alaric's legs weakened, and he would have dropped to his knees before the Narnian Kings and Queens had he not steadied himself. It would not do for a representative of Archenland's ruler to bow in such a way to foreign royalty. His heart drumming against his ribs, he looked at the marble floor, studying its blue veins and golden flecks, while his strength returned.

Following Berol's lead, the other Archenlanders bowed to the monarchs in the proper way, bending at the waist with hand to heart. It showed respect but not allegiance. "Your majesties," said Berol.

"Welcome to Narnia," said the older king. "I am High King Peter, and these are my brother and sisters, Edmund, Susan, and Lucy, also rulers of Narnia. We greet you with delight, Archenland."

"As we greet you. For long years we mourned your land's imprisonment."

"We are grateful to you for allowing so many of our exiles to take shelter in your land," said the High King.

"One of whom," said Alaric in a scratchy voice, "was my great-grandmother."

The younger Queen leaned forward with an eager smile. "You're Narnian?"

"Lucy," admonished the older Queen. "You can't ask him to forswear the country of his birth in front of one of his princes."

"It's all right, Your Majesties," said Berol genially. "Many in Archenland profess a romantic connection with Narnia. And those who can boast of Narnian blood are held in high regard."

King Edmund said, "Did your great-grandmother pass down any stories or accounts of her life here?"

"She did indeed," said Alaric. "I would be happy to relate them to you or one of your scribes, if you wish to make records of them."

"That would be a favor indeed," said King Edmund. His dark eyes seemed to light up.

Berol said, "Majesties, there is other information we must share with you, at a moment of your convenience."

Alaric noticed how the High King's gaze quickened, and how King Edmund leaned to one side and whispered briefly to Queen Susan. Yet none of them spoke aloud. Nethani's quip about children running the kingdom notwithstanding, these youngsters seemed to have far more than a child's understanding of what to reveal and what to keep to themselves.

King Peter said, "Is the morrow soon enough for a talk? For now, we must meet with our councilors, and I'm sure you are all fatigued from your journey. Rooms have been made ready for you." He rose from his throne and came down to Berol, so that they stood man to man. It was an action that conveyed both friendliness and noblesse, and once more the Archenlandish Prince placed his hand on his heart and bowed slightly. King Peter said, "I have high hopes for a resumption of alliance between our two peoples."

Oooooooooooo

As Nethani observed to Berol afterward when the Archenlanders were by themselves, "Interesting the way King Peter put it: he 'has hopes for a resumption of alliance.' He didn't exactly pledge an alliance. He wants to wait until he learns more about us. A canny lad, that—or a king with good advisors. Maybe Narnia will prove to be a worthy ally, after all."

"That would be a stroke of luck," said Berol. "With what's stirring off our coast, we're going to need all the strength we can muster."


	6. Chapter 6

Finding Cousin Nell Synopsis

**Fealty Chapter 6**

I don't own Narnia or anything else created by C.S. Lewis.

**The Element of Earth: Night Moves Into Morning**

In the middle of the night, two unplanned meetings took place in Cair Paravel. One was at the request of Narnia's Kings and Queens. The other was held in the Parliamentary Chamber.

In the narrow room used by the avian Parliament, full of windows and perches, lantern glow cast dark, flickering gold onto the plumage and eyes of representatives from most of the Talking Bird species of Narnia. There was just enough light to make things visible for diurnal Birds. The speakers' words were mixed with croaks, trills, and whistles, according to their kind.

Finally, Voornu, the Great Horned Owl who was the Speaker for this term said, "One of us must go to Their Majesties and tell them of our findings."

"Before sun-up?" asked a Goshawk in some surprise.

A murmur of laughter swept through the cluster of Owls perched near the Speaker, in the time-old amusement of nocturnal species at the limitations of diurnal ones. "Only if the Kings and Queens are awake at the time," said Voornu.

"I believe they are meeting in High Council at this very moment," volunteered a Swan.

"Then some of us will go to wait outside their meeting-place," a small Saw-Whet Owl said.

"All are decided?" asked the Speaker. After hearing the voices of assent and none opposing, he said, "Done, then. Carry our message to our Kings and Queens."

oooooooooo

The brothers and sisters sat with members of their High Council. The monarchs and several of the councilors had had a few hours of sleep and had been awoken by nocturnal courtiers. Some, like Lucy, were rubbing their eyes as they entered the room.

"What can we allow them to know about us?" said Edmund.

"What knowledge could they gain that that they haven't already figured out?" said Peter with a shrug. "In some ways, I imagine we are the most vulnerable kingdom in this world, because we have a lot of land and insufficient population to defend it. Even with all of you, our cousins"—and here he looked around the room at the Centaurs, Bears, Fauns, Wolves, and others gathered around the table—"we are automatically outnumbered by nearly every other people. Even in Narnia, Talking Beasts are not found in profusion. Yet Aslan has never enjoined us to close our borders to all other Humans and huddle down in the dark. We have to start somewhere; why not with our traditional allies?"

"In any case, Majesties," said Fabricius, "I get the impression that at this moment they are more eager to impart information, not get it."

"He bowed to the Birds," Lucy said suddenly. "What was his name? Alaric. The one with Narnian ancestors. He bowed to the Birds when he came in today. Mirabelle told me."

"A good sign," said Fabricius.

"It'll have to do for now," said Peter. "As things stand, they have the advantage of us, because they have no interruption in their memory or their history. They know who we are. We will have to learn about them as we can."

Oooooo

The Centaur Titurel, standing honor guard outside the council chamber, saw a trio of small Owls dart through the hallway toward him. The Owls landed on the floor by Titurel's forehooves and tilted their bodies back to look up at him. Owls' eyes are fixed in position, so their heads and bodies have to move instead. The Owls blinked almost in unison, and the smallest one addressed the Centaurs. "We have a message from the Parliament for the ears of Their Majesties and the Council," she said.

Titurel knocked on the closed door and eased it open just enough to let the Owls flit through. The tiny birds curved their flight path upward and came to rest on the oaken table. They had everyone's attention; they spoke for Parliament.

"Cousins, we bring you news."

The High King leaned forward. "Tell us."

"The Archenlanders are not the only Humans who have entered Narnia."


End file.
